Instead, his fingers encountered a piece of parchment. Danjin withdrew it and sighed as he saw it was his father’s message.

Theran has returned. I have invited your brothers for dinner.

Your presence is required.

Fa-Spear

“When I said it would be pleasant to have some time to myself again the gods must have been listening,” he muttered. He looked up at the canopy. “Great Chaia, what did I do to deserve this?”

“Neglect your family?” Silava suggested.

Danjin looked at the woman sitting opposite him. The light of the lantern softened the lines on her face. They were mostly the lines gained from smiles and laughter. Mostly. There had been less pleasant times. Just as many as experienced by those who married for love, he had noted in recent years. They had both been unfaithful, both learned that honesty was the hardest but only path to forgiveness. While they had never been passionately in love with each other, they had, eventually, become the best of friends.

“Which family?” Danjin asked. “Mine or ours?”

She smiled. “You should ask that of an unbiased judge, Danjin. Just be sure that our family will always want to see more of you. Especially once your grandchildren are born.”

Grandchildren. The thought of becoming a grandparent was both delightful and dismaying. It meant he was getting old. It also made his daughters happy. They were flourishing in their new homes. He was relieved to have chosen good husbands for them, though he had mostly taken Silava’s advice on the matter. Pity one couldn’t choose one’s parents.

“If it is my father’s family you mean, then you are being punished, too,” he pointed out.

“That is true. But he ignores me at these dinners. It’s you he will target.”

Danjin scowled at the reminder. Silava leaned forward and patted him lightly on the knee.

“I left a bottle of tintra on the reading-room table for you.”

He smiled with appreciation. “Thank you.”

The platten slowed. Danjin peered out of the canopy and felt a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach as they pulled up outside his father’s mansion. Then he remembered the ring on his finger. He took some strength from the knowledge that the Gods’ Chosen did not think him the failure his father believed his youngest son to be.

He climbed out of the platten, then turned to help his wife disembark. The rain was falling heavily, wetting their tawls quickly. They both breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the door of the mansion.

A tall, thin man with a lofty expression ushered them inside. Danjin regarded Forin, the head servant, suspiciously. The man had an apologetic way of announcing Danjin’s arrival as if it were an interruption rather than a requested visit.

“Welcome, Danjin Spear, Silava.” Forin inclined his head to both of them.

“Adviser Danjin Spear,” Danjin corrected. He untied his tawl and held it out to the servant.